JUNE Whence are thy wooings, gentle June? Thou hast a Naiad's charm;
Thy breezes scent the rose's breath;
Old Time gives thee her palm. The lark's shrill song doth wake the dawn:
The eve-bird's forest flute
Gives back some maiden melody, Too pure for aught so mute. The fairy-peopled world of flowers,
Enraptured by thy spell, Looks love unto the laughing hours,
Through woodland, grove, and dell;
And soft thy footstep falls upon The verdant grass it weaves;
To melting murmurs ye have stirred
The timid, trembling leaves. When sunshine beautifies the shower,
As smiles through teardrops seen, Ask of its June, the long-hushed heart, What hath the record been? And thou wilt find that harmonies, In which the Soul hath part, Ne'er perish young, like things of earth, In records of the heart. Page 391 WISH AND ITEM Written to the Editor of the Item , Lynn, Mass. I hope the heart that's hungry For things above the floor, Will find within its portals An item rich in store; That melancholy mortals Will count their mercies o'er, And learn that Truth and wisdom Have many items more; | |
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